


Unchanging

by innerslytherin



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M, past sexual abuse reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 13:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerslytherin/pseuds/innerslytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch knows what it's like to have a secret past.  When Morgan's secret is discovered, Hotch does what he can to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unchanging

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://severity-softly.livejournal.com/profile)[**severity_softly**](http://severity-softly.livejournal.com/) for a superfast beta. :)

"I told you to leave it alone!"  Morgan was pacing the grassy expanse between headstones, his shades pushed tight against his face, his coat zipped all the way up.  He'd looked good for the funeral--very put-together, handsome, collected.  But Hotch knew it was all a facade, just like the flirty, playful Morgan was a facade, a mask worn to keep people from getting too close and getting to know the real Derek Morgan.   
    
"I know," Hotch said.  His hands were in the pockets of his suit pants.  Gideon and the rest of the team had already gone back to the airport.  Morgan had needed someone to drive him, once he took his mother's car back to her.  Hotch had wanted to be that person.   
    
_"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Gideon had asked.  Hotch had only held his gaze implacably.  "Yes," he'd replied.  Yes._   
    
"I just wanted a little bit of privacy!  I told you--I warned you--"  Hotch had seen his tears the night they arrested Carl Buford.  He didn't see tears now, but he could hear the anguish in Morgan's voice.  "And you just had to get all up in my business anyway!"   
    
Hotch took a deep breath.  It was time.  "Derek, there was no way in hell I was going to let you try to cover someone else's crimes because of misplaced shame."  His voice wasn't much louder than before, but there was a hardness to them that caught Morgan's attention.  It helped that Hotch never swore and never called him by his first name.   
    
Morgan turned to stare at him.  "How dare you--"   
    
"I dare because I know," Hotch interrupted, his voice firm.  "I have been in that place, Derek.  It was harsh words and fists that taught me shame, rather than sweet words and caresses, but it was still shame.  Fear.  Guilt.  Wondering if other people would look at me and think I must have done something wrong.  Wondering if my friends would _pity_ me instead of respecting me.  Wondering if they would think I deserved it."   
    
Morgan's arms had fallen down to his sides.  He was standing very still, his attention focused on Hotch.   
    
They were alone in the cemetery.  The mourners were gone.  The gravediggers had covered Damien's casket.  They were the only two people in an island of faded green in this harsh and windy city.   
    
"I spent the first ten years of my life trying to figure out why I deserved that treatment," Hotch went on, his voice quieter now.  "Wanting to understand why my mom didn't protect me.  Wishing I were strong enough or smart enough to make him stop.  I felt powerless.  Vulnerable.  Ashamed."   
    
Morgan made a quiet noise but didn't otherwise move.   
    
"And when she finally left him, it was because of Sean.  And I wondered why I hadn't been worth saving, and I resented him for his good luck, and I despised lying to him every time we hid how my blood father had treated us."  Hotch shrugged, trying to swallow the thickness in his throat.  He didn't talk about this ever.  He didn't talk about it with his wife or his brother, and certainly not his mother, who was the next best thing to estranged from him since his step-dad had died.  He thought Gideon suspected, but they'd never discussed it.  And the reasons were much the same as Morgan's.   
    
"I grew up.  I swore I would never raise a hand to my wife or son.  And even when Haley asked why she had to be the one to spank Jack if it was needed, I didn't tell her.  Because I was _terrified_ that if I told her the truth, the light in her eyes when she looked at me would change.  Or worse, maybe it would go away forever."   
    
Morgan took a step towards Hotch, and then another.   
    
"Maybe that, more than anything, is why she left.  Because I didn't share myself fully.  I never trusted her with the darkest parts of me.  I never trusted her with my fears."   
    
Hotch had forced himself to keep his gaze steady on Morgan's face.  He knew Morgan was hearing him, but he wasn't sure how much he was getting through, until he saw a single shiny streak slide from under Morgan's sunglasses.   
    
"And if I didn't trust her with my fears, then I didn't trust her at all," Hotch finished in a whisper.   
    
Morgan was right in front of him now, and then strong arms went around Hotch, pulling him tight against Morgan's body.  He wrapped his arms around the younger man and could feel him shaking.  He had a feeling that, if Morgan was anything like him, there had been no tears shed over this for at least two decades.   
    
There was a stone bench a few steps away, and Hotch guided them over to it, pulling Morgan down.  Almost at once the cold penetrated his thin suit pants, but he didn't care.  He just held Morgan against him, cradling the younger man's head against his chest and stroking his back.  For all Morgan's shaking and the ragged gasps of breath, Hotch still didn't think there were many actual tears.  It was a harsh, ugly mourning, but maybe it would let him eventually let go of some of the guilt and shame, at least.   
    
After a while Morgan's arms loosened a little around him, and he could feel the younger man taking deeper breaths, obviously trying to calm himself.  Then he pulled his arms back, sliding them up Hotch's chest.  He was going to push away.  Hotch shook his head and cupped Morgan's cheek.   
    
"Shh," he murmured.  "My feelings about you haven't changed, Derek.  My respect for you has only increased."   
    
Morgan went still again, but this time Hotch felt him relax against his chest in a long sigh.   
    
Hotch nodded and brushed his lips across the top of Morgan's head.  "I won't lie to you and say everything's okay," he said, "but I will point out that you're stronger than this."  He felt Morgan's fingers curl in the front of his shirt, and that was better than being pushed away.   
    
"You're the one who figured it out, aren't you?"  Morgan's voice was hoarse, but steady.   
    
Hotch pressed his lips together.  "Yes.  Gideon's the only other person on the team who knows.  I'm sorry we had to let that local detective find out, but it was the only way to get him to understand that you weren't the killer."   
    
Morgan sighed, but he nodded.  After a while longer, he pulled away and shivered.  "Man, your ass has gotta be frozen."   
    
Hotch's mouth twitched.  "Getting there," he admitted.   
    
"Aren't the others waiting for us at the airfield?"   
    
Hotch shrugged.  They would wait as long as was needed.   
    
"Yeah."  Morgan straightened and sniffed, then cleared his throat.  It was a transformation in front of Hotch's eyes, but he didn't mind, since Morgan had allowed him to see it.  They looked at each other for a long moment, and Hotch could see that both of them had changed, and neither of them had.  "We'd better get going.  My mom didn't get a chance to meet you earlier.  She wants to talk to you."  After a moment he darted a glance at Hotch.   
    
Hotch smiled.  "I promise not to tell her any secrets."   
    
To his pleasure, it made Morgan laugh.  "I'd be more afraid if it was Des," he said, and stood up.  "Come on.  Let's not keep the others waiting any longer."   
    
He held out a hand, and Hotch let him pull him up.


End file.
